


The innocent burn the brightest

by Ellstra



Series: Huxloween [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Panic, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellstra/pseuds/Ellstra
Summary: “Kylo Ren is found guilty of witchcraft and involvement with the dark forces and is therefore sentenced to death by fire, as pertains to those who have sinned so.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was the only thing I came up with for "Bonfire"

The trial couldn’t have ended any other way. Kylo didn’t really have any illusions about it consciously but he supposed a part of him, the one that believed in love at first sight and luck, hoped he still had a chance. He doesn’t. He will die in fire, just like everyone else who has ever sat on the dock accused of witchcraft and meddling with demons.

Someone pokes him in the ribs with a stick and he makes a step forward. He almost doesn’t consciously realise the pressure or the pain it causes him, it’s an automatic response. It doesn’t reach his brain anymore.

Kylo thinks, briefly, about Hux. About his most treasured secret, his most treasured transgression of the communal rules that he never really bothered to follow. He thinks about Hux who promised to stay out of this, not to try to set Kylo free because it is pointless, hopeless, lost. Nobody really faced the trial and survived, unless they had something to confess or recant, and Kylo had no such thing. They burned the innocent and the guilty alike – although guilty of what Kylo couldn’t quite comprehend.

Hux would have no chance of tearing Kylo out of the clutches of the inquisition, and he’d only get himself in trouble. Why should a mayor of a city be interested in a witch? Why should he want to save said witch from the stake where he obviously belonged? It was a trap waiting to fall and Kylo was not going to let Hux get caught in it.

They drag him away, most likely back into his rotting, damp cell. They won’t burn him right away, no, that would be expensive and never serve the purpose – to have as many people as possible see what end witches meet. The common folk is working in the fields or in their workshops, with only the old or the rich walking about. Kylo wonders what Hux is doing.

He walks slowly, moving his bare feet on the floor with effort. There are bloody wounds on his soles; he must have stepped on something sharp. His bound wrists are blue and purple and black too, and there are several fading bruises on his face hidden under dried blood and more welts. He has not checked his stomach to see how the wounds evolved there – it made him gag the last time. He’s still alive and everything hurts and that’s all he really needs to know.

His magic left him when his amulet was taken away, and he’s weak from the starvation and torture the inquisition subjected him to. His legs are buckling underneath him, too fragile to carry even the weight of his own body. Every single movement hurts, even breathing, and Kylo wonders if a heartbeat can be painful.

He doesn’t truly understand any of it – why he was sentenced, why they beat him, why him? Many people carry amulets and even more perform some basic magic. And out of all these people, they had to pick him. Kylo only knows one person who refuses to deal with magic. Hux has never performed a single spell, never prepared a single potion. Kylo admires him for that, for his resilience to achieve everything using only his own skills to achieve his goals. Hux also always begged him to stop using magic, before it kills him. Kylo wishes he’d listened.

They force him back into his dungeon. He knows it so well he doesn’t have to look under his feet anymore, he knows every brick and every crack in the whole place and he wishes he didn’t because the boredom makes it all worse, gives him enough time to focus on his pain and his fear. He catches a glimpse of a rat’s tail but it’s too brief for him to decide if it’s one of his own or a foreign one.

He sits down in his cell, too tired to walk around now, and he stares in front of himself, trying to reach the magic within himself. He had spent too much time learning to bend the amulet’s will that he forgot how to wield his own force. He is sweating, shivering with the effort, a crease between his eyebrows. But there’s nothing, only void, and he’s pushed himself to his limits but the magic just won’t come, not even when he’s desperate.

The gate creaks in its hinges and Kylo raises his head, slowly, tiredly, expecting a pair of guards, or perhaps the preacher who’s come to ask him to repent of his sins. His eyes adjust to the streak of light and meet a familiar lean figure descending the stairs. The door closes and the visitor hurries to Kylo’s side, dropping to his knees, dismissive of the dirt on the ground.

“Hux,” Kylo whispers and moves to the bars too, pushing his hands through. When he first got there, he barely got his wrists out; he can push his whole forearm through now. He must look atrocious, pitiful. He expects Hux to reprimand him for it.

“I love you,” Hux breathes out instead of a greeting and links his fingers with Kylo’s, desperate for more intimate touches. Kylo hisses in pain when Hux touches his broken index finger and recently dislocated thumb. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kylo murmurs and gives Hux a sad smile. He wonders if Hux can see that one of his front teeth is missing. He certainly must see the gash on his forehead or his broken swollen lips or his black eye-

“What have they done to you?” Hux whispers and inspects Kylo’s fingers, holding his wrists. He can see the bones in Kylo’s forearm, not just feel them.

“I’m sorry.” Kylo looks down on his knees. He’s mostly wearing the clothes they took him in but it’s tattered and dirty. They took away all the adornments and accessories of course, including the belt Hux gave him.

“No, no, no, darling, it’s not your fault,” Hux reassures him and lets go of one of his hands to raise Kylo’s chin up, “I should get you out.”

“We’ve talked about this,” Kylo says with a pained expression. He wishes they didn’t, or that he wouldn’t be so noble to force Hux to stay out of it. He is exhausted and all he wants is to go home, to curl up in Hux’s arms.

“I know, I know,” Hux nods absent-mindedly and he takes Kylo’s head into his hands through the bars. The dark curls under his fingers got longer but matted and lost their shine. “But that was when there still was hope.”

“There never was any hope, Hux,” Kylo replies tiredly, “I was a dead man the moment they took me.”

“There has to be something,” Hux mutters, more to himself than Kylo. They are both aware that he is wrong – there is nothing, absolutely nothing to be done and there never was.

“I just wish I could embrace you one more time,” Kylo sighs, “without all this. I want to kiss every inch of you to take it with me. I don’t want to forget you.”

“You won’t,” Hux promises, “I won’t forget you.”

It sounds more like wishful thinking than an actual promise but Kylo is tired and broken so he doesn’t really care.

“Millicent misses you,” Hux says after a while, “she’s been wandering around the house with no energy.”

Kylo smiles, despite the absurdity and woefulness of it all. A cat mourning her master’s lover. But there’s something beautiful and warm in it too, like he had a place in the world, and maybe it wasn’t a family but it was a lover and a cat and that was a start.

“Tell her I miss her too,” he whispers, making eye-contact, “that I’m sorry.”

“I think she’s sorry too,” Hux replies.

“I don’t want to die, Hux,” Kylo sobs, “I don’t want to die.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die,” Kylo hiccups and he’s shaking, his body shivering with fear and pain it doesn’t have the strength to take. “I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.”

“Shhh, darling,” Hux is crying too, “shhh, shhh.”

“I don’t want to die,” Kylo repeats and his breath is whizzing in his chest, straining his lungs, “I don’t want to die.”  
“Kylo, look at me!” Hux says sharply and shakes Kylo, worried now. “Take a deep breath, okay? For me. In and out. Look at me, I’ll do it with you. In,” Hux takes a deep breath, one Kylo is obviously not capable of in the moment, “and out.”

Kylo stops his rant and tries to follow Hux’s instructions. He’s still breathing too hard which hurts his throat, and he’s shaking.

“In,” Hux says, looking Kylo intently in the eyes, “and out. You’re doing good. So good. Okay. In.”

Kylo stares at Hux and tries to ignore everything else, everything but his freckles, his irises that are a different colour every time he looks into them, his long but soft eyelashes and fluffy eyebrows.

“And out. Good,” Hux smiles slightly, with his mouth only and tears glisten on his cheeks. They press their foreheads together and keep breathing until eventually Hux stops counting the breaths and listens to Kylo’s heartbeat instead. They close their eyes.

There’s nothing to be said, really. What can they say now? It’d would all taste sour and stale on their tongues, like something they should have taken care of long ago. So they hold each other and think of a better world where they get a happy ending.

Then the key rattles in the lock and Hux jumps to his feet, Kylo pulls away and withdraws to the middle of the cell and that is the only goodbye they’re allowed. The warden takes Hux away, derision in his eyes as he spits in Kylo’s direction. Kylo is used to it, used to worse, actually, spit and insults don’t hurt which is a major improvement to pokes with a walking cane. Hux cringes and almost hisses at the man before recovering. Kylo watches the light disappearing from the cell as his connection to the outside world is severed.

It’s a long night.

They don’t come with food, probably deciding it’s no use to feed him when he’s going to die soon anyway. Kylo nibbles at the tips of his fingers, pulling at the skin surrounding his nails, desperate to do something to distract himself from the rumbling of his stomach or his thoughts. He chews on every single piece of skin he peels off like it is a delicious meal. He’s cold; the wind is howling in the little hole in the wall he’s not going to call a window. He’s hungry and cold and miserable, missing Hux’s touches.

And he thinks of death. Up until his trial he has been able to avoid it, to close his mind and focus on the cobbles on the floor, on the mould on the walls, on the rats that try to bite him when he sleeps. But tonight he can’t run away anymore.

He’s terrified more than he’s ever imagined to be possible. He doesn’t want to die; the only words on his mind are _live, live_ , _live_. He wants to kiss Hux again, to feel pale skin under his fingers and lips, to scratch Millicent behind the ear, or to see a sunset one more time. He’s never seen an ocean and he never will, just like he’ll never taste an oyster or see an aurora borealis.

He feels like he doesn’t know anything about Hux, about the man he loves. There are so many little things Kylo never asked him or never saw him do. He’ll never see Hux grow old and complain about back ache, or see if he ever figures out how to cut a slice of bread evenly.

He’s angry and sad and he forces his mind to try and come up with one more escape plan. He’s thought hard about it, night after night when he was still strong. He never came up with one he thought would be feasible but he’s desperate now. Besides, if he can busy his mind with this, he can postpone his terror a little.

Kylo forces himself to stand up and inspects the wall, the little hole in it, the floor. His broken bloody fingers trace the uneven surface as he mumbles to himself, desperate. He presses against the mortar, against the cold stone, slips his hand through the hole in the wall. The air is cold and damp and he pulls it back.

He settles down some time later, convinced he’s gone over every idea he might have twice. He’s starving and shivering, curling his frail body into a little, miserable heap. His mind whirrs, as if trying to use up all the thoughts it has stored for a whole lifetime. Horrid visions of pain and void and nothing. He wonders if they’ll be merciful enough to snap his neck before tossing him into the flames. Kylo had never been afraid of fire – fire cleanses and warms, gives life. And so does water. Kylo runs a fingertip over a crimson scar that stopped throbbing maybe a day ago and started to itch instead. Another, further up on his stomach. Another, on his arm. Another that itches and hurts like hell and is most likely inflamed. He almost forgot about that one.

_His throat is raw from his screams and he’s shivering, cold sweat beading on his brow._

_“You know what I like? Water. Water is good, right?”_

_He has no idea what to say, and he figures he doesn’t really have to say anything. They’ll do their thing no matter what. They’ll kill him if they decide to do so, and they won’t if they think today is not his day to die. All he can do is take it and hope he passes out soon._

_There’s something forcing his mouth to open and he’s too weak to resist. In the next second, he’s drowning._

_He’s not a skilled swimmer but he can stay on the surface for a while. Not that he can swim but he knows what to do to let the water carry his weight. Once, he got into a current that pulled him under and he had to struggle for his bare life._

_This is worse. His arms and legs are bound and he’s trying to kick to reach the surface, to take a breath, but he can’t, he can’t and it’s getting worse –_

_“I hear you witches like to play with fire. This should quench your perverted fantasies.”_

Kylo shuts his eyes forcefully, almost painfully, to send the images away. He has once heard someone say that anyone who has an organized life and has done everything in his life as he should doesn’t fear death. Kylo doesn’t know what it says about him but he certainly is not ready to die. He sobs again and curls into a ball on the floor.

The worst thing about the torture was the pain, obviously. The second worst was having absolutely no idea why it happened. Kylo didn’t have anything to confess – they didn’t need him to since they caught him performing magic. They didn’t ask for information either. They just tortured him and there was no way out of it, nothing to reveal, nothing to admit. Kylo couldn’t save himself from it.

He bites onto his lip and winces in pain. It sends his thoughts away however, which is a good thing. Finally, he’s too exhausted to stay awake and he falls into a troubled, ugly sleep in the wee hours of the day that will be his last.

…

“Behold now the fate of witches! Beware of them for they are the spawns of the devil! Here one stands before you, one that has been sucking warmth off your breasts for years, living off your hard work!”

Kylo searches for a glimpse of red hair in the crowd, desperate to hold onto something. They’re about to kill him but not before the folk has spat on him plenty. Kylo is disgusted – they were all very happy to come for advice, for a spice or to request an accident to happen to people they wanted out of the way. They were one-upping each other in bringing Kylo better treats or more money. And now they stand here and boo and shout insults at him. Kylo curses each and every single of them and hopes they will lose all the riches his magic brought them when he’s dead.

Finally he finds Hux; he’s standing on the edge of the crowd and he looks pitiful and lost. Kylo feels sobs rise in his chest again. Hux is not supposed to be miserable or sad. Hux is supposed to be proud and not care about anyone. Kylo almost wishes Hux didn’t love him, almost, but he wouldn’t be honest with himself, not when he remembers what it’s like to hold Hux close and make him laugh. No, he doesn’t wish Hux never loved him. He wishes Hux really was the ruthless man everyone sees in him, that he could shake off his emotions for Kylo just as easily as his clothes.

They look each other in the eye just as the preacher stops shouting at the enraged mob and the executioner raises a torch. A cry escapes Kylo’s lips and the crowd howls.

Kylo tries to muster up enough of his magic to beg the executioner to kill him before the fire does as the torch lights up the base of the stake Kylo is standing on. Hux’s face is twisted in pain, at least as far as Kylo can tell from the distance.

The brushwood beneath his feet catches fire and Kylo looks at the executioner with a silent plea in his frightened eyes. The man is not looking at him. He’s staring into the crowd or perhaps on the sky that threatens to open and release rain. Kylo sees him nod as the smoke rises and obscures his view of the mob, of Hux, of all his life.

“The mayor wanted me to tell you that Millicent loves you. And that she won’t forget you.”

Kylo only has a moment to realise what it means before his world fades to black.


End file.
